


An Improbable Encounter

by StubbornSloth



Category: Black Sails
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-15 08:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18495340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StubbornSloth/pseuds/StubbornSloth
Summary: Jane, just another inhabitant of New Providence Island literally stumbles across our lovely (first season) accountant.Intended to be a full fanfic but ended up becoming gratuitous smut connected by minimal plot.





	1. Chapter 1

No one really notices that they're drunk until they sit down. That's when it really hits you. Whether you're sitting down at the table to drink some more, on the side of the road (because your legs won't cooperate) or on the porcelain throne, that's the moment you can really feel the room moving. Slamming both of my hands on the table, which moved and creaked a bit, I pushed myself off the long bench, and started my trek across the room. I usually would have stopped drinking before getting this drunk, but today I accidentally made an exception, being terribly excited I survived a series of shitty events, and lost count of how many times I knocked the glass back.

 

Getting across the room, that was packed full of sailors, pirates, mostly undressed prostitutes and so forth, mostly the whole population of Nassau, was a dance in itself. Turn sideways to pass between the two men chatting, slide to the left, slide to the right, duck, to allow a waitress to pass a tray over my head, turn sideways again. Hell, it was so crowded one of the aforementioned ladies threw her arms around me before she realised, much to her chagrin, that I didn't have a cock, although, if I hadn't spent all if my money, that it wouldn't have been a problem. After a few more "dance moves" , I've almost made it outside, only a set door, painted in that muddy blue, peeling and splotchy, like almost everything in Nassau, separated me from finally being free.

 

The double door gave way easily, allowing the chilly, salty air outside to engulf me. Oh, and what a wonderful sensation it was. Stepping out into the cold night, after spending hours inside, in the warm and much too heavy and dense air of a tavern. I closed my eyes for a moment. The cold air was a blessing upon my sweaty skin, although the sand in which my feet were sinking in didn't really help my predicament. My already wobbly feet weren't at all stable in the sand, but I didn't live far from here. I concluded, that my decision to close my eyes and keep in walking was terrible, the moment I collided with something rather warm. Several things happened almost simultaneously. First, I yelped, I stuck my arms out to try and regain my balance, but to no avail. When my hands could finally find something to grab, instead of my yelp, my ears were filled with a loud ripping noise, and I realised that I'd accidentally grabbed a piece of fabric. Finally, I felt a pair of cold hands grab me by the waist and pull me back to my feet, although a little clumsily, and I found myself slammed on, what I presumed was someone's chest.

 

For a long moment we took each other in. While still entangled, we looked at each other, trying to figure out what the next move should be. The man who was holding me, as if I wasn't a complete and utter stranger, was taller by maybe a head, as I had to crane my neck to see him properly, sported small, round glasses, which were now sitting slightly askew, and shaggy auburn hair. My eyes travelled down, to his small mouth, to the small tie around his neck, and then to his now ripped collar. Oh no. It was the collar I ripped when I grabbed him for my dear life. My hand shot up to touch the fabric and assess the damage. "I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to!" I stammered to find my words. Suddenly, it was as if he became aware of the situation, removing his hands from my waist, and taking a step backwards. The fabric of his collar slipped from my fingertips. "Really, it's no trouble! Just... Just be slightly more careful next time"

 

He let his gaze fall to my feet, and turned around to walk away, but I wouldn't have none of it. Placing my hand on his arm I leaned back towards him "Please, let me fix it! Come by tomorrow morning, I'll fix it in a minute". He opened his mouth as if to say something, but thought better of it and closed it once again. "I would ask you to come with me right now, but as you can see, I'm slightly buzzed and I wouldn't want to make your collar look as if you sewn it yourself". He took one more step. "I live above the bakery, there's a staircase on the left". He didn't hesitate this time "Why's your name?" he asked. "Jane. My name is Jane." I said as confidently as I could, though it wasn't the truth. "I'm Dufresne". And with that he turned and left for good, leaving me to wonder what on earth just happened.

 

 

But my poor, drunken brain, didn't have time to ponder this question. I made it home quickly, and planted my face into the soft pillow, falling asleep instantly, still dressed the same, with my boots still on.

 

The next morning I woke up as if nothing happened. I peeled off the sweaty dress, my stinky boots, and my corset and piled them all in a corner of the room. I was desperate for some fresh air, the room smelled almost musty. I washed a little, and started redressing for a long, long day, I was working on tightening my corset when I hear a knock on my door. Who on earth could be at this hour? Most people wouldn't look for me until at least after lunch, and I guesses it wasn't even 10 yet. But nevertheless, I threw on my own robe, to try and look somewhat decent, and swiftly opened the door. Standing outside, fiddling with his small round glasses, was that man from the night before, about whom I've completely forgotten about until I laid my eyes on him again, still sporting that ripped collar. "I was about to leave...Thought you'd forgotten about the...invitation" he seemed to have a hard time finding his words. He did flash a smile, although, it was more of a schoolboy smile.

 

For a moment I seemed to be frozen in time before I finally snapped back. "Please, come in! Where are my manners!" As he walked inside, I was brave enough to grab him lightly by his wrist, and lead him towards the bed. "Sit for a moment, while I look for my kit". As I rummaged through the drawers, I let my robe come a little looser, and I thought to myself that I was a little pathetic really, flaunting my cleavage everytime a man gave me the slightest but of attention. I had to remind myself he was there to get his collar fixed, most probably, and not anything else. Turning back towards him, I sat next to him and opened the box, and upon seeing me trying to thread my needle, he started undoing the buttons of his shirt, but I quickly stopped him. "It's easier for me to see if it's symmetrical if you don't take if off!" Oh great, there's a man undressing on my bed and I stop him, real smart. "Alright, you're the expert" he said, but it was obvious he meant to say something else. "I'm so sorry you had to get though all this trouble, just because I wasn't looking where I was going. It's truly embarrassing". Scooting over a little closer, I leaved and grabbed that goddamned collar, took another look at it, and then went right to work. I put in a couple of stitches before I stood up, and compared it to the other side, trying my best not to fuck it up. I noticed that, unlike most people on the island, his skin was much whiter, and softer, he didn't spend much time in the sun for sure. He even had a few freckles. Sitting back down I became terribly aware of how warm this man was, I could see the blush creeping up his neck. You know you're sitting too close to someone when you can hear them breathe. But there wasn't any more time to think these silly things, as the collar was back in place, looking as if nothing happened. I snipped the remaining thread and finally broke the silence.

 

"It's done! Looks exactly the same as it did before" I had no idea what it looked like before, but I hoped the hitch in my logic wasn't going to be that noticeable. He stood up, touched it, and thanked me quietly and quickly stepped towards the door. I swiftly went and opened it, slightly confused by his behaviour. Did I do something wrong? What could I have possibly done to make a man flee like this? I did drunkenly crash into him, but it wasn't something one couldn't forgive. As he stepped over the threshold, I leaned against the door and said "Goodbye, Mr. Dufresne, hope I didn't spoil your whole day". I stepped back into the room, looking down, somewhat disappointed. Well, I obviously didn't, considering that as soon as the words left my mouth, he turned around and grabbed my waist. After a moment of hesitation, he kissed me almost urgently, as if he was meaning to do it for a while and now he gathered the courage. The height difference meant he was now crouching over me, while I was tiptoeing. Was he French? His name indicated as much, but his accent didn't. The tongue that was now expertly exploring my mouth was a pretty strong argument. Entangled, just like we were last night, made me wonder if maybe I should have brought his home with my last night when I was drunk and terribly courageous. Walking across the room was slow, and clumsy, neither of us willing to let go. I tried my best not to grab his collar again.

 

Gently pushing him, he sat down on the same spot on the bed where I fixed the collar, only this time I climbed on top, straddling him, and once again thought to myself "I should have done this earlier". I ground my hips against his, the feeling was both relieving and maddening, prompting me to let out a long sigh, and him to grunt and shudder under me. I broke the kiss once again to start unbuttoning his shirt. "Mr. Dufresne, I'm staring to think that maybe it's not your collar you wanted fixed". Grabbing my hips with both hands, he bucked his hips and ground the hardness in his trousers against my core, earning a moan from me. "And I bet, that, when you invited me to your room, it wasn't the collar you were thinking about either". My robe was barely hanging on for dear life, barely covering anything at this point. The shift I was wearing was terribly thin, and I wouldn't be surprised if I was dripping all over him right now. Truly wouldn't be surprised.

 

I was done unbuttoning his shirt, so I quickly un tucked it from his trousers, and threw it somewhere near the bed. His tie joined it soon. And then a couple of belts. The boots he kicked it off himself, although, I bet he would have enjoyed the sight of my kneeling between his legs. On the other hand, he was a little bit more shy, only my robe was now in the pile, and while the strings on the corset were loosened, it was far from off. Of course the corset was the difficult part, men are always confused by the corset. "If you could help me out a little bit here, I think it would be best for the both of us" We both laughed for a moment, before getting right back to work. I grabbed one of his hands and placed it right on my pussy, right were it was wettest. "Don't think I'll let you slack while I do all the work" I said, well, breathed into his ear. I started tugging at those goddamned strings, while he tentatively dove one of this fingers inside, slowly testing the waters, and then added another one, teasing me mercilessly, going much to slow for my liking, but my the look he was giving me, I bet he meant it. Oh, he surely did know right where to touch me. The palm was pressing against my clit, severely distracting me from taking off this contraption, and while I bit back the first few moans, now they left my mouth without a second thought. My hips moved back and forth on their own accord, and a fleeting thought crossed my mind. I was this desperate, I was basically riding his hand. Hell, I'm sure he could make me cum in a few minutes only with his hands, and I don't know whether to attribute that to his skill or to my sex deprivation. But it was all done, I threw the corset on the floor and attacked his lips once more, now more determined than ever. His hands went back to exploring the now recently uncovered area of skin, starting from my hips, up my ribs, down my back, and finally, to my breasts and my painfully hard nipples.

 

"Dufresne, you're driving me insane!" he didn't stop his ministrations, kneading them as if he was born to do it. "I'm serious!" I tried to sound threatening, but instead it sounded more like I was pleading. I'm sure he loved seeing me react even to the slightest touch, as he now moved much more confidently. "I'm not done with you yet!" his accent started to come through. "I want to want me more than anything in the world before I fuck you". Oh, that accent was getting to me. Badly! And with that, his mouth was on one of my nipples, sucking, and licking and rolling it around like his life depended on it. Both of my hands had found their way into his shaggy, auburn hair, as if to ensure he won't stop too soon. But his intent wasn't to stop, so I decided to make him regret his decision, wiggling and grinding against his erection. I knew the window was still open and that the people on the street could hear my moans, but I didn't care. I was so close to actually letting go when he stopped. The bastard stopped! I was about to protest, but I quickly found myself slammed into the mattress, Dufresne climbing on top of me. I wrapped my arms around him in an instant, and my legs were up in the air, trying to get as much contact between us as possible. The weight was almost familiar. "You can still turn back, cherie. Are you sure?" Was he serious? "Will you fuck me already, or are you planning on teasing me forever and ever?" He didn't need any more encouragement. He put both of his hands on the backs of my knees, lifting them dangerously high, and carefully filled my inch by inch, until he buried his cock all the way in me. The pace was initially painfully slow, as if he was afraid he was trying not to hurt me, but noticing it wasn't the case, he picked it up. Soon the room was filled with the sound of the creaking bedframe, my breathy moans, and his occasional grunts. I was convinced my neighbors could hear me, but I couldn't care less. I grabbed fistfuls of the bed sheet, and started moving with the rhythm.

 

The feeling of his rather large cock moving inside me, hitting that wonderful spot time and time again, his lips moving on my neck, biting, licking, sucking, and the feeling of his fingers tweaking with my nipples was a dangerous one. I knew I wasn't going to last much longer. We were both already covered in a thin layer of sweat, but he didn't seem as close as I was, which was reassuring. He seemed to be completely in control, while I certainly wasn't. "Did you think, last night, that I would fuck you this well?" I didn't, he really didn't seem the type, he seemed to be the type to cum in 30 seconds but nonetheless, I moaned "Yes! I knew you'd fuck me just right!" He seemed to rather enjoy hearing me, as his thrusts instantaneously got harder, more determined. "Keep going!" "I knew you were the kind of man who knows how to treat a lady right! I bet you could fuck me until the sun sets!". One of his hands dipped down to touch my clit, and I was completely lost from then. My whole body tensed, my back arched, as it always did, my eyes rolled back in their orbits and I was lost. My whole body was on fire. I could hear the words and moans tumbling from my lips as if I had separated from my body. "Yes! Yes! Please don't stop, please, please! Oh my god! Dufresne! Ah! Please!". I was breathless, my brain didn't seem to process what exactly was going on.

 

His body wasn't on top of mine any more, instead, he grabbed me, and flipped me, but I was too dazed to move like a normal human being. I grabbed the headboard to steady myself, otherwise I would have fallen face first into the mattress. The chilly air made me realise how terribly wet everything was, I was dripping down my legs, and I could bet the sheets were drenched too. I must have been a sight to behold. "Say it again". He said, filling me once again from behind. Instead of whatever he wanted to hear, a moan escaped my lips. "My name! Say it again". Oh, the accent! "Dufresne!". His hands, that were placed on my hips a moment earlier, now roamed my back, and my thighs, taking in every square inch of my skin, making sure nothing went untouched. It was as if he was trying to remember every detail.

 

The rhythmical skin slapping skin sound started to grow irregular, and so did his grunts and moans. His grip on my waist was stronger than ever, and I was sure it would bruise, but I didn't care. Instead, I turned my head to look at him, sweat dripping down his forehead, glasses sitting askew on the tip of his nose, eyebrows knitted together in concentration, mouth slightly open. "Dufreeeesne!" I mewled, just to see his reaction. His head dropped back, the sound he made resembling something more animalistic that anything. This thrusts stopped, and instead, he pulled out, and was now shooting his seed across my back. Our breathing slowed down gradually, as we both came down from that high.

 

He stood up, though I could tell his legs were still shaky. He looked around the room for a moment, before he grabbed a rag from next to the wash basin, and sat down next to me. With a gentleness one couldn't imagine coming from the same man who moments ago was pounding away at my pussy, he started cleaning my back. "I'm leaving tomorrow." he said quietly. It was as if he was confessing to a loved one, not to a complete stranger. "Where?" I turned and put a hand on his chest. "I don't know yet". I leaned in to kiss him again. "When you come back, come here. I'm really curious what else you got up your sleeve". He merely nodded.

 

We dressed in silence. Now that the sexual tension was resolved, it seemed that some kind of awkwardness had set in. He didn't seem to have any problem taking the stockings off, but now even the thought of helping each other getting dressed seemed outlandish. I did, after we were both dressed, helped him tie his tie. "I'll come back, Jane, if I survive". He kissed me again and disappeared down the stairs.

 

He went straight to the beach, still dazed, and not quite convinced it actually happened, and it wasn't completely a product of his imagination. He did have a pep in his step. He grabbed the logs from the wooden box they were stored, and plopped them down of the wooden desk. It was in a makeshift tent, and by the time he'd gotten to work, it was almost noon, so it was terribly hot. He wiped his forehead with a rag, and tried to concentrate but it was to no avail. The only thing that would get him interested in whatever was going on in these logs was if Jane was bent over them. The numbers seemed to fly of the pages, and the fact that they should have been done by now certainly wasn't helping. Gates slowly walked inside, as if he was trying not to spook him. He put his hands on the desk and asked "Are you done with those? You said you could get them done by noon..." he trailled off. "Well, it's gonna take a while longer. I know I said it'll be done, but I might have underestimated the situation." Gates wasn't buying any of it. Reaching over the desk, he tugged the collar to the side to reveal a small bruise, no bigger than the size of a fingertip.

 

The tent was filled with the sound of Gates' laugh. He was bent over double, slapping his thigh enthusiastically, red with laughter. After a moment, he straightened himself and wiped away a couple of tears. "You finally went to Noonan's, boy?" it was almost a rhetorical question. It was a known fact that he hardly ever frequented it, and when he did, it was almost a secret affair. "I didn't.", he deadpanned. "I didn't go to Noonan's". Gates' expression changed instantaneously, from complete amusement to utter shock. "Did you... Trip and fall into a doorknob?". Dufresne said nothing, and instead buried his nose in one of the logs. "I cannot believe this!" exclaimed Gates as he exited the tent. 


	2. Chapter 2

It's been two weeks and, while I secretly wanted him to come back, I told myself that it was something that a man would say only in the moment, but would forget the second he passed that threshold.

 

Leaning out the window I watched the people passing by. It was almost like watching the characters of a play, each and every single one of the locals represented a type, with comical accuracy. You could tell the whores by the bright colours they wore, blues and reds and yellows, bows and ribbons. The more "decent" a woman was, the duller the colours, the more skin covered, the only exception to this rule were the women who tended to the church, who despite not being nuns, insisted on wearing black, and Eleanor, who dressed like a pirate in a skirt. The pirates you could tell by the abnormal amount of belts. It doesn't matter what kind of color the shirts were, they all ended up that muddy beige colour. A knife, a cutlass, and for the richer, a revolver were tucked away at the waist. The men who weren't pirates try their hardest to dress like they did back where they came from, long sleeved shirts, buttoned all the way up, despite the heat, polished shoes, unlike the pirates who wore tall boots. Sometimes they wore ties, but not all the time. Praise the Lord nobody every wore a wig. (Except for a special character named Mary, who occasionally wore a blonde wig for her clients). 

 

Feeling inspired by the people passing by, I took out one of the old skirts that had a ripped hem and started mending it. I ripped it so many times I decided to cut an inch off of it and sew on a bit of lace. From my observations, nobody cared if it was a bit shorter. It wasn't really my intention to become a seamstress, but I do enjoy any kind of work that involves a lot of concentration and attention to detail. Sporting my newly mended skirt, I decided to go to the marketplace and get myself some fruit, and maybe something to drink, since I didn't have much else to do. I tied a scarf around my hair, grabbed a basket and ran down the stairs, passing by the bakery, which innundated the entire street with the smell of cupcakes. I already decided I was doing to pick one up when I came back.

 

I was already dreaming of starfruit and passion fruit, and guava, when a hand emerged from somewhere to my right and pulled me in a small alcove. I was about to scream, when a small hand covered my mouth. Of course, I didn't have to scream, for it was Max, and not some pirate. She raised a finder to her lips and then released me. "I have something to show you. I snatched it off this drunken sailor last night and I want to know if it's worth anything." she proceeded to take out a ring. "It's too dark here to tell what kind of stone it is.". She looked left and right and then tucked it back into her corset. "Come to my place, in 20 minutes, and make sure nobody is following, or that think will be gone before I can snap my fingers."

 

Much less enthusiastically, I picked up some fruit and ran back home to wait for her. Twenty minutes had already passed and I was starting to panic. Half a hour passed and she finally knocked. She slammed the door behind her and said" I'm so sorry, ma cherie, I stopped to blow an old client, couldn't say no "in that wonderful accent of hers. I laughed, realising that I shouldn't have worried." Cherie". Taking the ring out again, and dropping it into my open palm, she waited patiently, sitting on my bed like an obedient schoolgirl. The gold ring was warm and the well shaped stone was transparent. Taking out a magnifying glass, I looked at it carefully. Then, I held it up to the light and it shone brilliantly. I turned it on all of its sides and couldn't believe what I was seeing. I've only got my hands on such a jewel only twice. Taking a deep breath, a placed it in her hand and whispered. "Max, I don't think you understand how expensive this is. Its a gold ring and the stone is diamond. Diamond, Max! Where did that son of a bitch get it from?" 

 

Max stood up and covered her mouth. "What if somebody saw me? What if they tell that man and he comes looking for me? People know my name, they know where I live!" she whispered while pacing the room. "Max, hide it somewhere save, where none of the girls might look, and wait a while to sell it. Word will travel that a whore is selling something so precious and that man will find out." 

 

"But what if I don't get rid of it and he comes looking, and they search my room, and they find it?" she said louder this time. "They won't come looking if you don't give them a reason to come for you". The wrapped her hands around herself, as if it would offer any comfort and continued pacing. I placed my hands on her shoulders and and looked straight into her eyes. "You did something stupid, calm down, hide the goddamn ring, and you won't get in   
trouble."

 

She sighed and nodded. "Yes. Yes, Jannie, that's what I will do". She sat back down on the bed and then laid down. She studied the peeling ceiling intently. "Sooo, Jannie, how have you been doing?" I didn't know if she wanted to know or if she felt bad about barging in like that, but nonetheless, I wanted to talk to someone. "Oh, Max, you won't believe it!". I gave her that look, that very particular look I gave her when I talked about men. 

 

"Tell me aaall about it!" she grinned. I sat next to her and started chatting away. From the drunken crash, fixing the collar, to the corset incident, and so on. 

 

 

We left the tiny room, and went our separate ways. She went back to the brothel, while I went to the tavern, not because I particularly felt like drinking, but because I hoped I would see him. I heard that another crew was back today, but I didn't catch the name, it was said in passing. I told myself I would get a bottle of wine from the shop next to the tavern, to justify the trip. 

 

The tavern was packed, and after surveying it, and not seeing the bespectacled man, I decided it wasn't worth waiting anymore, bought the bottle and left. Terribly disappointed, I slowly walked home. Despite my feelings, I enjoyed walking at night, avoiding the sweltering heat. The street I live on was completely deserted, the only light was cast from the windows, and the moon. Occasionally, when you passed by those windows, you could hear cutlery scraping against plates, snippets of conversations. Once, I even heard someone playing the guitar, and sat there, under the window, for a full hour. 

 

"Jane!". I couldn't see where the sound was coming from. I couldn't see a silhouette, but I did stop and turned around. Emerging from a darker portion of the road, Dufresne was wearing an expression I couldn't quite read, so I simply said "Good evening", and tried my hardest to look composed. I couldn't let on that I was secretly excited.

 

"I was on my way to see you."  
"Good thing we ran into each other, it would have been a shame if you left just before I arrived home."  
"Is the invitation still valid?"  
"Of course it is, walk with me!". If someone overheard this conversation, they would have believed us to be two terribly proper people. I could imagine having this conversation in a wide, cobblestone street in London, holding a parasol, and whispering so that the chaperone doesn't hear too much. In line with the London fantasy, he extended his arm, and I gladly took it. We exchanged pleasantries, the typical small chat, I found out he was an accountant, which didn't quite make sense to me, why he would be on-board when accounting could be easily done from dry land, but I didn't push it. I did tell him that, while I didn't have a stable job in Nassau, I often worked as a seamstress. He found it terribly amusing, that a seamstress ripped his clothes. When we reached the bakery, he even opened the door for me, which was something I'd forgotten about in Nassau. But as soon as we reached the top of the stairs, he gently pushed me against it, kissing me like he hadn't ravished the first time he was here.

 

When he lifted me off the ground and held me between him and the door, I almost dropped the bottle. Would he fuck me right here? It isn't a public place by no means, but the people from the bakery occasionally used this staircase too, and that would be an awkward moment. His hands touched my thighs generously, caressing as much skin as he could, touching the sliver of exposed skin right above my stockings. But that wasn't what he had in mind. He set me down, and held the bottle while I unlocked the door. I quickly lit a few candles, after encouraging him to sit at the small table, and poured two glasses of wine.

 

"I'm terrible at picking wines, they all just taste the same to me really. I hope it's not too bad". He took a sip and said "It's decent. I've drunk far worse, if that helps"

 

I hoped the wine would loosen my tongue a little, so the conversation flows smoothly. Soon, we went from small chat, to talking about Eleanor Guthrie, and the most recent yelling session she had in public, this time it was because a man had allegedly touched her behind. I could easily imagine her whipping out a gun and shooting a man for such an indistection. And then about the fisherman who, because he fished too close to the port, would keep on catching boots, cutlasses, and various other pirate objects, and that maybe he should call his profession something else, since he never catches fish. And then the conversation progressed about Logan and his sweet Charlotte. While he was convinced that Charlotte was interested only in his money, I knew for a fact that she was indeed, in a somewhat stable relationship with that man. Actually, from what Max told me, she only charges him for sex, and not for blowjobs, and that she wouldn't even charge anything if he ate her out.

 

While still on the subject of what happens at Noonan's, I placed a hand on his thigh. He didn't protest. While talking about Mary and her wig, I moved my hand further up, my fingertips barely grazing his cock through the fabric of his trousers. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then went right back to talking about the details of the brothel. Only when I gripped him, with no more hesitation, that he finally broke the facade, and moaned softly, bucking his hips slightly. I took it as an invitation, and started to stroke him, as well as I could given the situation. "Jane, don't tease me like this. I will remember this and retaliate!" he warned me, so I decided to heed his warning and got on my knees in front of his chair. "Would this be alright, or is it still in the teasing territory?" I asked. I had placed my hands in my lap and gave my best doe eyes. "Yes, yes, quite alright".

 

I didn't waste any more time, I undid his belt, thankfully there was only one belt, pulled his cock out, giving it a few strokes. It wasn't something I usually did, but how hard could it be? I gave it a tentative lick, to which he shuddered a little, so I did it a few more time before putting it in my mouth. It didn't all fit, but I continued stroking the rest of it with my hand and placed the other one on this thigh, as if it were for support. The room was quiet, save for his heavy breathing and the small sounds I made when it touched the back of my throat. As I picked up the pace, I did what Max told me to do when pleasing a man, to look up, so they don't feel lonely. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open and both his hands clasped tightly on the edge of the chair. Occasionally, he would sigh deeply. I grabbed one of his hands, and placed it on the top of my head. He opened his eyes and didn't waste any time pushing me down on his cock, slightly moving his hips upwards. Max's advice really pays off! Drool was slowly dripping down my chin and onto my decoletage. It was a strange sensation, and a proof of trust, allowing someone to have this kind of control. When looked up again, he was looking down at me, so I gave a mall moan, just to test his reaction. Oh, I could already imagine him under me, with the same expression of pure ecstasy. He bucked his hips again. "Jane, we need to stop this before I finish in your mouth. I'd much rather do it somewhere else". I did stop, but after I'd finished wiping all the drool, I asked "Would have been mighty proud of myself to have had finished you with only my mouth". He pulled up his pants, just so that they wouldn't fall off, stepped towards me, and grabbed firstfuls of my skirt. He leant in and whispered "I could say the same. In fact, I will do the same." With this, he picked me up by the waist and placed me on the edge of the bed. Carefully, he took off his glasses and placed them on the table. I was terribly anxious, but that all disappeared the moment he flipped the skirts upwards all the way to my hips. Carefully, he touched the already drenched folds with his thumb, making me draw breath sharply. He smiled broadly and said "I haven't even touched you yet, and you're already so wet for me, ma cherie." with that, he put both fingers inside, as deep as he could go. "Yes, I waited for you. I though about this everyday, Dufresne!". I could feel his eyes on me, observing my reactions as he moved his fingers carefully, touching that one wonderful spot he knew. He then placed his mouth on my clit when I said his name, which was a new, yet wonderfully pleasurable action. Not many men were willing to do this. After a few flicks of his tongue and strokes of his fingers, I was already moaning, pushing his head firmly into my core, and moving my hips in tandem. "Mr. Dufresne, is this what you imagine doing while you were at sea? Shoving your nose into a book when you would rather press it into my pussy?" I couldn't say more than three words without either moaning, or drawing breath. Hearing me, he stopped his ministrations for a moment to retort, and then went right back to it, even more enthusiastically." Yes, exactly, did you read my mind? ". His hands here now pressed into my thighs, keeping them open so I don't crush his head in my ecstasy, his fingers worked away tirelessly, while his tongue twisted in a way I didn't know was possible. He was quite a sight to behold, lapping at my pussy like there was no tomorrow, each and every single moan encouraged him to do it even better than before. Oh, that little French tongue. It didn't take much longer for that talented little tongue to make me come. While I trashed and moaned, he draped one of his arms over my hips, as not to knock one of his teeth out. "Yes, Dufresne, don't stop! Exactly like that! Yes! Yes! Oh my lord, this is so good!". I bet he would have said something back, if I wasn't gripping him by his hair right there.

 

I fell backwards onto the bed, having a hard time catching my breath. He stood up and splashed some water on his face from the basin, and wiped it away while I still tried to regain control of my body. "Stand up" he said, but in a gentle way, not at all commanding. I did try to stand up, but my feet were wobbly, and my head was still spinning. He stood behind me, and carefully undid the buttons of the dress, allowed me to step out of it, and carefully draped it over a chair. Then, he started working on the corset, which came off easily, since I was simply standing, and not being furiously fingered. Even my shift and my stockings ended up neatly folded on the chair. I did the same for him, taking off his shirt and draping it over the back of the chair, and folded everything else, including the tie, which he found terribly amusing. I told him I didn't want to also iron his tie the next morning. 

 

He kissed me gently once again, touching and squeezing my body slowly, while my hands traced every shape of his body. By the time we found ourselves back onto the bed, he was rock hard once again, and entered me so easily, all the way, for I was so wet and so ready for it. While he was so gentle and careful moments before, now he seemed to have lost all control. His face was pressed into the crook of my neck, grunting and quietly saying my name right into my ear. His hands didn't touch my body anymore, instead one of them gripped my hip, while the other gripped the enge of the bed. Oh, he was so eager to spill his seed. "Oh, Dufrese, is this what you imagined while you touched yourself at night?". He groaned and kissed my neck roughly, as if he wanted to bite it but didn't quite make up his mind. "I bet you wanted this so much, you could have fucked me in the middle of the street". Not faltering for a moment he retorted, in a breathy voice, being so close to climax. "Keep talking like that and I'll fuck you in the street next time". He groaned again, this thrusts growing irregular. This time, he spilled his seed all over my belly, and then laid on top of me for a moment, trying not to crush me.

 

Once again, he stood up, cleaned us both with a rag, but unlike the last time he didn't dress up right away. He was hesitating. He didn't know whether or not he was in the situation to stay the night, so I clarified this concerns. "Come, sleep, you must be dead tired.". He exhaled, relieved, and laid beside me.

 

 

It was still the middle of the night when we woke up, I could tell by the moon still up in the sky. Well, he woke up before me, because by the time I was fully awake, his arms were wrapped around me from behind, while his lips slowly explored my neck. Oh, this was a nice way to wake up. We had fallen asleep in a much different position, but somehow we got tangled up again, in our sleep. "You just couldn't wait until the morning, could you?" I said quietly. I wiggled a little, feeling him pressed against me. "I can't just wait". He pressed another kiss into my neck. "I have beside me a most beautiful woman, sleeping naked, you have to excuse my lack of self control.". One of his hands was now rolling and pinching my nipple, which hardened in an instant, both from the pleasurable sensation, and from the chilly room. He wasn't rushing this time, he knew we had all the time in the world. The lazy touches weren't enough, I longed for more, but his hands never wandered too far. It was pretty clear that in the morning I would have to wear something around my neck to hide the bruises. He left a trail of teeny tiny bruises on my neck, my shoulder, and on my upper back. I could spend an eternity in this warm embrace. His erection was pressed against my behind, but he made no gesture to go further, which annoyed me to no end. Pressing against him just wasn't enough, and his hands were still latched onto my tits. "Don't lecture me on my self control, you're the one who seems to have more trouble." he said, placing a hand on my behind and giving it a squeeze. "You, sir, are playing with me, it's not fair, not in the least! You can't tease me like that and expect me not to want more. And I suspect, that your point isn't to test my self control, but rather to have me begging. Which will not happen."

 

I stood up and walked over to the desk, where I lit a candle, which cast a dim, warm light onto the room, and grabbed his glasses. They were stightly dirty, so I quickly wiped them with the corner of a shirt, and placed them on his nose." I will have you begging, Mr. Dufresne, mark my words!". Straddling him, I started slowly, running my fingers over his milky white skin, over his freckles, the small, pink scar on his collarbone. I touched the shell of his ears, traced his jawline, his lips, his hip bones, the trail of reddish hair from his belly button. I could feel goosebumps forming under my fingertips. He didn't have a bad physique, for an accountant, I concluded.

 

Bending over, I placed a kiss on his chest, and went further up, until I reached the crook of his neck, where I lingered. His breaths grew heavier, and his hands immediately found my thighs, which I quickly slapped away. "Tsk, Tsk, Tsk! I'm the only one touching now. Put your hands on the back of your head, and I will be soft on you" I whispered. Completely surprised, he obliged. "If I knew, I would have found another way to wake you up"

 

Slowly, I started rocking my hips against his, the tempo much too slow for me, but I wanted to keep my promise. I wanted to make him beg for it. He would buck his hips, desperate to create some more friction between us, it was no use. The fourth time he bucked his hips I picked up the pace a little, placing my hands on his chest and grinding my now sopping wet cunt against him. I could see his muscles tensing and relaxing. Although he was terribly stubborn, small moan left his lips everytime I pressed harder. "I belive it would be beneficial..." another moan interrupted his sentence "...for both of us to get to it". I didn't need any more encouragement really, so I immediately sat down on it, engulfing the whole length in a second. A let out a sight of relief, and ran a hand through his now sweaty hair. Bouncing on his cock meant I was straying further from my goal and closer to my own pleasure, and I hadn't decided yet which one to choose. My hands roamed, playing with my hair, or with my breasts, or simply touching the exposed skin of my stomach and hips and thighs. His hands left his head and were now gripping the headboard so tight his knuckles were white. "Just a little faster love, just a bit" he grunted through his clenched teeth.

 

"Faster you said? I can't hear you" I said, slowing down to an absurd pace. "Oh, Dufresne, you'd have to do a little better than that" I moaned. I knew that saying his name was like pulling a trigger. His hands covered his face for a second, pushing his glasses upwards. "I would really apreciate it, if you would keep on riding me. Please.".

 

"Not exactly the way I thought you'd formulate it, but it'll do". I said, grabbing his hands and placing them on my hips. I braced myself on his shoulders. He didn't hesitate in pushing me down on his cock with rough, sudden movements. I could feel my muscles clenching around him, spasming. The climax washed over me almost calmly. I was so glad to finally let go, every fiber of my being relaxed, while I threw my head back and let out a few, drawn out moans. "Oh Dufresne, you're so good to me." He didn't last much longer, grabbing me quickly and lifting me off him right when he did, spilling his seed all over his own stomach. I dropped to the side, and laid down a moment to catch my breath.

 

I got up and grabbed a rag. It felt nice, reciprocating. I appreciated his care, any other man wouldn't have hesitated to come inside me, without giving a second thought to my well being or what might happen if I fell pregnant. As I laid down next to him once again I started asking myself questions. What on earth was I doing? I wasn't the kind of girl who would do this casually, or at least, I wasn't, though it seems that's what I've become. Should I ask him what captain he's working for? If I asked him if he'd heard about a certain man, I knew he'd ask why I was asking, and who he was to me, and so on. Asking directly wasn't the way. But maybe, if I could get him talking...

 

"Thought you'd fall asleep right away" he murmured. "I was just thinking" I whispered back, placing my head on his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time I'd woken up, he was already dressed, and was now carefully knotting his tie. The belts were still undone, the buckles clinking at the smallest movement. It must be early, the light was much too dim, barely peeking through the thin curtains. He took off his glasses, cleaned the lenses quickly, and then positioned them back on his nose. It was apparent that he hadn't noticed me watching him, and now was checking his pockets and looking around the room, trying to see if he'd forgotten anything.

 

 

 

"You would leave without telling me?" I said, barely louder than a whisper, but I startled him nonetheless. A hand shot up and touched his chest, and then let out a long sigh. "You scare the shit out of me!" he almost laughed. "I was just trying not to wake you, it's just after dawn.". I stood up and got my robe from the peg where it was hung. Wrapping it around me, as if there was any modesty left to save, I stepped quickly towards him, throwing my arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek. His hands sneaked up my back and he kissed me deeply, without hesitation. "When will I see you again?". "I have to go now, I've got some things to do, but I'll be free this afternoon. I'll come looking for you."

 

 

 

"If I'm not here, I'll be down at the market, ok?" I said. He nodded. With another kiss, he left my room, and I dove right back into my bed, back to sleep. He might have to work right now, but I, after all the hard work I did last night, I decided I deserved to sleep in.

 

 

 

Down at the beach, in the same makeshift accountancy office, Dufresne was once again pinching the bridge of his nose, pouring over those goddamned numbers. His head wasn't swimming anymore, although he still had a hard time concentrating in these conditions. Gates leaned against one of the wooden poles that supported the tent, studying the accountant carefully, as he scribbled away, and occasionally yawned. For a moment, he took his glasses off and rubbed his face vigorously, as it he was trying not to fall asleep. 

 

 

 

Gates knew this wasn't exactly what one would call "his business", but as quartermaster, he considered it his responsibility to find out everything he could about each and every one of his crewmembers. A he knew for a fact, that something was going on with the accountant. They had joked for a few months that he was celibate, or preferred the company of men to that of women, but it was all over when they spotter him leaving Noonan's in the dead of night. When confronted, he blushed redded than a tomato. Could there be another reason Dufresne wasn't getting enough sleep at night.

 

 

 

He quickly walked over to the desk, and exactly like he did last time, he tugged the collar to the side only to reveal that the bruises have multiplied, and now there was an entire constellation adorning his collarbone. Dufresne jumped too his feet, startled. "Gates, if you wanted me to get undressed, you could have asked nicely" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

 

 

"So it's not nightmares that have been keeping you up!" laughed Gates, slapping him on the back and sitting at the desk. "The world must be coming to an end. Dufresne is spending his nights in some lady's bed. Next thing I'm going to see are the Four Horsemen of the A

pocalypse!"

 

 

 

"I don't see how this is any of your business."

 

 

 

"You weren't at Noonan's, I know for a fact, cause I've been drinking there all night, and unless you climbed through a window, I would have seen you passing by. No, you're going somewhere nicer, I've seen you come from one of the streets further away from the beach." concluded Gates, mighty proud of his investigative work.

 

 

 

"Your point is?" snapped Dufresne.

 

 

 

"My point is, get back to work, otherwise you'll be done next Christmas" Gates said, leaving the tent just as quickly as he came. It bothered him, the surprise in Gates' eyes, the fact that he couldn't imagine there being a person who would be interested in him, that didn't look at him like he was less than everyone else because he preferred to busy himself with crunching numbers rather than crushing skulls.

 

 

 

At times she made him feel so confident, reacting with such enthusiasm to everything he said and did. Only occasionally, when he woke from his reverie, he turned back to the shy, introverted Dufresne. She brought out the best in him, and that was terrifying.

 

 

 

 

 

Jane had gone to the pier again, and then to the marketplace, the corner where the more select goods were up for sale. Paintings, books, all sorts of fabrics, trinkets from different corners of the planet, maps, fine equipment, watches, compasses, the kind of things he would be looking for. She hoped to see him there. She hoped she would hear one of the merchants mention the crazy sailor looking for Atlantis. Yes. The man she was looking for left London in order to look for Atlantis. She had spent a few months in Havana, where she frequented this kind of places, but when all the leads ran dry, she got back on a ship and went to Nassau, where she heard some more colorful characters resided. Time was passing quickly and her plan was to get on another ship, this time to Charleston, where she hoped to settle.

 

 

 

The hoped with all of her heart today would be the day she finally found another lead. Most probably it would turn into another goose chase, but that's what she signed up for. "... and then I told her to pack her bags and leave, because I ain't taking her back...". "...he said he would bring some more of that red silk next week, yes....", "... No, I'm sorry, I'm not willing to go any lower than that, sir.".

 

 

 

"Have you heard about that man? The giant one with the long ginger beard? They say he wants to find Jimmy and beat the shit out of him for selling him a forgery..." Jane stopped dead in her tracks. Turning he head slowly, she went to a merchant next to the two talking women, and pretended to be looking at books. Running her fingers along the leather-bound spines, she bought herself as much time as she could." Well, yes, that map looked genuine, and Jimmy didn't expect him to survive the voyage. The Bermudas have always been dangerous, you know..."

 

 

 

That gigantic ginger man buying maps matched the description, she stood there until they changed the subject and started talking about a particularly good looking pirate. She did decide to buy a book, so that she could justify her long stay and not seem out of place. She did enjoy Molière.

 

 

 

She happily took her loot home, and also bought some candles, knowing that she won't be able to stop reading come night. She had another errand to run, but she knew it wouldn't take long. Going to the Guthrie tavern was always a pleasure. She treated her well, she respected all women who worked hard for their money and paid just as well. The protocol was simple enough. She would find Mr Scott, who would lead her upstairs, where he would announce Eleanor of her arrival.

 

 

 

Her job for the day was to take measurements, for a few skirts and a short corset. Eleanor didn't like the regular, more cumbersome type, she preferred the ones that stopped just at the waist. And she was one of the few people who knew how to make these.

 

 

 

They worked quietly. Eleanor didn't appreciate useless chatter, and wanted things to be done as fast as possible. She scribbled all the measurements down in a small notebook. There was something on her mind, but it wasn't her place to ask.

 

 

 

"I will have someone deliver a few kinds of fabric, I've got a shipment being unloaded as we speak. You work your magic, I have no other preferences." she added a smile at the end, but it was as if she was pushing herself to look cheerful.

 

 

 

"Of course, Miss Guthrie, the pleasure is all mine! I'll come by to drop them off when they're ready!" I said, ready to get out of there and get reading. Mr Scott escorted me outside. "Goodbye, Miss Jane". His smile, on the other hand, was genuine.

 

 

 

A mostly uneventful day, she concluded. An idea crossed her mind. She could try to bake today. The mangoes in the market looked wonderful and, while she only baked with less exotic fruit, how different would a mango pie be? Walking through the crowd, she felt someone's eyes on her, burning a hole in the back of her head. She turned slowly and inspected the crowd. The couldn't see anyone looking in her direction. That is, of course, until she made eye contact with a menacing looking man. Dressed all in black, hair tied back, away from his face, and sporting a ginger goatee, the man looked at her somewhat surprised. His green eyes met her and she knew she'd seen those eyes before, many years ago. She knew when and where and she prayed to all the gods on this planet that he didn't recognise her. She had grown up, it would be quite a striking difference. When she was 15 she looked like a mouse, hiding in her father's small library. Now, she practically looked like a local, though the same could be said about him. She didn't wait any longer, she fled. Sliding through the crowd, she ran out of there as fast as she could.

 

 

 

She tripped up the stairs, bruising her forearms in the process, but it didn't matter. She wanted only to hide. She slammed the door and tried to keep her wits about her. She shouldn't panic, it would only make the situation worse. In an effort to distract herself, she went into her small kitchen and started working right away. She occasionally stopped from chopping up mangoes to wipe her tears, and then carried on, stubborn enough not to let this incident get the best of her. When she finally put the pie in the oven, she finally let go and started crying, her tears flowing freely. The sat down by the oven, determined not to let the pie burn, and cried her heart out.

 

 

 

That's where he found her, in the kitchen, taking her pie out of the oven while sobbing. "I don't know what you're cooking, but it smells fantastic!" he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her tears. He didn't know how to react, comforting crying women was an art he wasn't a master of, and didn't want to make the situation even worse. Throwing the towel she used to pick up the tray on the mall table, she turned to him and ran straight into his arms. Wrapping hers around his torso, she put her head on his chest and let out another sob. "Janie, dear, what's the matter? What happened?" he said smoothing her hair. She opened her mouth and closed it again a few times. She couldn't find her words. Should she tell him? She could, there was no harm in that. Instead she looked up at him, with her reddened eyes, and puffy, tear-steaked face, and asked "Dufresne, I never asked what your first name is." He knew he shouldn't laugh with a crying woman in his arms, but he let our a chuckle when he realised that, while in obvious distress, his name was still on the forefront of her mind. "Alexandre. My name is Alexandre".

 

 

 

She untangled herself from him and started talking. "I saw a man today. While I was out and about. A man I saw many years ago in London. I...I guess I was just scared.". She was careful, not to let too much slip out. "He disappeared one night, nobody saw him again in London from that day on. This is the first time I saw him in 10 years. I don't know if he recognised me, though.". She cut two slices of pie, and carefully placed them on plates. Grabbing two malls forks, we both went to the main room and sat at the table." Cmon, enough crying for today! Let's see if this pie is any good! " she tried to cheer herself up. Digging into the fresh pie was heaven on earth. The moment the first piece touched her tongue, she let out a drawn out moan. The flavour basically exploded in her mouth." Janie, this is genius. I don't think I've ever tasted anything so wonderful in my entire life" he said.

 

 

 

"You're exaggerating!" I exclaimed, mock-slamming my hand on the table. "I'm not. And believe me, I've had some great pies in my life.". She laughed this time and retorted "If you're a good boy, I might even give you another piece!"

 

 

 

"Oh really? And what does" being a good boy "entail? I wouldn't want to miss out on that pie". He looked at her mischievously over his glasses. "Say something in French!" she said, biting her lip and crossing her arms over her décolleté. She had that glint in her eye. "J'aime quand tu me regardes comme ça.". "Oh lord, you could have told me to go fuck myself and I still would have enjoyed it. For all I know, you could have said that". She stood up and went to the kitchen, cutting another piece of pie and rewarding him. After she placed the plate back in the table, she sat on his lap sideways, and places her arms loosely around his neck. "I hear the craziest thing at the maket today! There were two women talking about a gigantic sailor, with a ginger beard, who was looking for a merchant who sent him on a wild goose chase with a forged map! And you'd think I would have gotten used to this place already". Munching on another bite of pie, he nodded "That man always comes back to Nassau, once every few months, but always keeps to himself. I've heard he's on the hunt for mythical creatures and lost islands. Why are you asking?" he turned his gaze to hers.

 

 

 

"Oh, no particular reason, though it was funny, the whole conversation". I shifted on his lap a little. It felt weird. We had slept together, twice, and now he was back at my place, eating pie like we've been married for 20 years. I didn't know how to act. Should I ask? Should I just wait for things to sort themselves out? I decided for the latter. For now, I will enjoy it while it lasts. His hands weren't busy with the pie anymore, and in stead, were now travelling up and down my legs "I see you've bough something else from the marketplace also". He said, reaching over to the other corner of the table, where my book was forgotten. He picked it up and held it open with one hand, while the other was still gripping my thigh. "You do really have a passion for the French, don't you?" he laughed. "I suspect it's all your fault!". He set the book down and grabbed my waist, shifting me in his lap. "Is it now?" he said, placing a soft kiss on my chest. One of his hands sneaked up my skirts and was now touching my warm, and soon to be wet core, through my thin shift. "Mr. Dufresne, how do I say "Yes, don't stop " in French?". He smiled against my neck and whispered" Oui, continue comme ça". I tried repeating it, but my accent made lim laugh for a solid minute.

 

 

 

"Cherie, I think you should leave the French speaking to me!" he put my skirts to their rightful place, and smoothed them out. His face turned somewhat serious for a moment, and before I could protest him stopping, he said "I don't want you to think I'm only here to sleep with you." he stopped to gather his thoughts. "I'm here because I really enjoy your presence."

 

 

 

I didn't know how to react. I didn't know what to say. So instead, I kissed him deeply, grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer. "I really do enjoy your presence as well. In fact, I'll show you just how much I enjoy it." I stood up, dragged him to his feet, and lead him to the bed. "Now, be a good boy and sit down for me.". He obliged. Sinking to my knees, I undid two brass buttons of my corset, letting my breasts be encased only by a thin layer of cotton, that didn't do much to restrain them. I did my best to remember all the advice I've received on the topic. First, I stroked him gently, through his trousers, until I he was rock hard. "Oh, Jane, what have I done to deserve this? Really, you don't have to". Unbuckling the belt, and pulling his cock out, I replied "I don't think our little friend down here agrees with the" you don't have to" part". I slowly put it in my mouth, all the way until it hit the back of my throat. I slowly bobbed my head up and down, watching him closely, to see his reactions. Whenever I swiped my tongue over the tip, he would let out a sigh, and would grunt when I would also use my hand on him.

 

 

 

"Plus rapide, ma cherie" he said, placing a hand on my hair and giving it a slight tug. Taking it out of my mouth, but still pumping it with my hands, I asked him to translate. Instead, he pushed my head down on his cock and bucked his hips, and I understood the message. I went faster, almost gagging a few times, but determined to pleasure him. His moans turned louder and his hand gripped my hair tighter. The salty taste of his precum invaded my mouth and I knew that he was getting closer. "Je vais bientôt jouir" he said in a breathy voice. After a few more thrusts, I could feel his cock pulsing in my mouth, spurting his sperm in my tongue and on my lips. I struggled to swallow it all, but I couldn't, and a few drops dripped on my chin and a bit on my cleavage. He fell backwards on the bed for a moment, while I wiped away the remnants of our activities. "I'm so sorry, Jane, I didn't mean to" he breathed heavily. "It was just... It was so good I couldn't help myself". Tucking it back in, and buckling his belt, I smiled "I enjoyed it actually". The act contradicted everything I was taught growing up. If my mom knew I was gladly on my knees, swallowing a mouthful of cum, she would go mad!

 

 

 

He stood up suddenly and almost screamed "I'm late!". Scrambling to get to the door he said "I'll be back, don't worry, I just got to be somewhere". "I'll be reading till you're back" I said, lighting a candle.

 

 

 

He was supposed to meet at the Guthrie tavern, to talk about the business with the Captain. Luckily, when he finally arrived, they didn't seem angry, they actually were having a great time, laughing and drinking in the office. Gates was already red in the face, while the captain was leaning over the desk, holding a glass of what one can only assume was rum. Eleanor had her feet on the table, reclining dangerously far back. Sitting at the only empty chair near the desk, he started "I must apologise for keeping you waiting, I... I lost track of time. I hope it wasn't much of a bother". Eleanor laughed loudly, putting her feet back on the floor and produced another glass from under the desk. "Don't worry, Mr. Dufresne, Gates already informed us why you were late!" she started laughing again while pouring the rum, spilling a little , and handing it to Dufresne. He quickly knocked the glass back and Eleanor gladly poured another one. He desperately needed it. Gates and Flint looked at each other with a glint in their eyes, and raised their glasses as well.

 

 

 

Mr Scott entered the room for a moment, quickly grabbed a pile of different fabrics sitting on a chair in the corner of the office and left in a hurry. Captain Flint smiled, took another drink, and then took a jab at Eleanor "You've been spending so much time in this goddamned office, you started taking your laundry here? Shit, Eleanor, you might as well move your bed in the office too. Unless, of course, you enjoy sleeping on the couch". Gates laughed uncontrollably, slapping the desk and bending over, while Dufresne only smiled. He didn't want to disrespect the Guthrie matriarch, she could have him banished form the island in a second if she wanted.

 

 

 

"Oh, fuck off, Flint! They're for my seamstress, I left them here so Scott wouldn't have to look for them in my room. Either way, at least I sleep on a couch and not a hammock." she took another sip. When Dufresne heard the word seamstress, he tensed up, gripping the glass slightly too tight. He truly hoped she would be completely separate form these people. He wanted her to be his harbour, somewhere he could escape when he wanted to detach, a completely different world from his.

 

 

 

Gates noticed his knuckles going white. That sneaky old man, he could see through anyone. He could have said something, Dufresne could see his smirk, but he didn't. He kept his mouth firmly shut, no doubt he was going to ask him about her some more, at some point. The party didn't last much longer.

 

 

 

"Mr. Dufresne, tell us all about our profits!" the captain said, setting his empty glass down.

 

 

 

 

 

By the time he was back, Jane wasn't reading anymore. He expected to find her laying on her bed and already halfway though the book, but instead, he found her at her desk, surrounded by a number of lit candles, fixing skirt that looked terribly familiar. Next to her was the same pile of fabrics Mr. Scott carried out of the office. She was so concentrated, that she didn't even register his presence. He stitched away at the skirt, biting her lip, her brow furrowed. He wished he could frame her and put it on a wall, somewhere in a museum. Wishing to grab her attention he whispered "Jane!", to which she yelped and almost jumped out of her chair. She tuned around, still holding the needle and thread, and waved them menacingly "I'm not afraid to defend myself, Mr. Dufresne!" She swiped the needle through the air a few times, to demonstrate. He grabbed the needle out of her hand, put it safely in the pincushion, and grabbed her by the waist, pushing her slowly until her back touched the desk." I couldn't wait to get back to you." he said, planting a kiss on her neck. "Tu me rends fou!" he whispered in her ear. He found out the last time how much she enjoyed hearing him speak French, even when he didn't tell her what he said.

 

 

 

"Let's just sleep tonight!" she said, hugging him tightly, and burying her face in his chest. It smelled faintly of tobacco. Wherever we went, he must have been sitting in a room full of cigar smoke, she didn't think he was the kind of man to smoke. She didn't dare ask him where he had gone, it shouldn't be her concern, at least not yet.

 

 

 

But there he was, standing in her room again, coming back to her once again, without any hesitations. Being possessive didn't suit her. Silently, they took off their clothes, her keeping only her shift, while he was down to his trousers, to preserve a somewhat sense of modesty. Sleeping naked after making love was different, it was almost unimaginable, covering their warm, sweaty, tired bodies, it now it seemed necessary. They climbed under the covers, blew out the candle that was idly melting away on the nightstand, and and promptly fell asleep. She might get used to sleeping next to someone, sleeping wrapped in the arms of someone was certainly better and being huddled all alone.

 

 

 

She did wake up at night, though. She dreamt of those green eyes, boring into her skull. She remember him, from back in the day, all dressed up in his royal navy uniform, sitting at their dinner table, chatting with her father. His hair was longer, tied back with a ribbon, and much more fiery-red, curled at the ends. A soft smile almost always graced his lips. Oh, she could close her eyes and see the light refrecting from his polished buttons. Or the polite conversations about literature, for it was their only common ground. If she were in different circumstances, she would have tossed and turned and stared at the ceiling until the break of dawn. But she wasn't. Alexandre, she had gotten used to his last name so much, his forename sounded foreign on her tongue, threw his arm around her and squeezed her closer to his chest.

 

 

 

"You're not sleeping" he mumbled, half of his face buried in the pillow. "I'm not" she answered, but instead of the playful tone he was expecting, she sounded rather worried, given the fiery start of their relationship. "Jane?". She shied away from his touch. He propped himself up on his elbow. "Jane, what happened?". She didn't answer right away. "I'm still worried, about that man today, but I don't know why. There's something about him that scared me so much I ran back home and cried my heart out. He... He was a friend of my father's..." she trailed off. "I don't know if he goes by his original name, from what I've heard, most people use another name, so that they may leave their old life behind, in the old world.". She turned to face him. "Tell me what he looks like, maybe I know him."

 

 

 

"I'm not sure I should tell you. I... I don't mean to offend you, I just..." she couldn't find her words.

 

 

 

"Well, what harm could come from it?" he answered. It did sting a little, that she couldn't trust him, but she was right to be wary, you shouldn't trust anyone in Nassau. "Well, he's about 6 foot tall, auburn hair, green eyes, wearing all black, his hair was tied up in a small ponytail and he has a goatee." she quickly enumerated. Like she rehearsed the description, or like a prayer known by heart. Thanks to the dark, she couldn't see his face suddenly drop, when he realised that the man she described could he no other than Captain Flint. There was no other man on this island who would match this descriptions this closely, and most probably no other man who could instil such a deep fear with only one glance. His blood ran cold. "What business could she have with Flint? What does she mean "she knew him"? Were they mere acquaintances? Family friends? What if they were lovers? No, she would have been too young. Or maybe not? In what circumstances did she meet him? What kind of man was he before? Everyone was a different man before arriving in Nassau. ". A mirriad of thoughts ran through his mind.

 

 

 

"Oh, you know him, don't you? That's why you're so quiet.". Dufresne was gradually sinking further away from her, as if he wanted the mattress to swallow him. There was a sense of danger he couldn't shake, even though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It could be just a coincidence, but he knew better than to believe such a thing.

 

 

 

"Jane, listen to me carefully. That man is the captain of the crew I'm part of, his name is Captain Flint. I know you've heard the name before, you know he sails under the black. Whatever you were thinking, do not approach him. You don't want to get tangled in a mess you shouldn't be tangled in. You understand me?". She didn't know what shocked her more, the fact that James McGraw, the respectable Royal Navy lieutenant was now a pirate captain, or that the man laying next to her in her own bed was a pirate himself.

 

 

 

"You're a pirate" she said plainly, in as neutral a tone as she could muster. Then she let out a laugh, more out of shock that amusement. "Pirate crews have accountants? Or did you lie about that as well?"

 

 

"I actually am an accountant. I didn't lie. I told you what my job was, I told you I had to sail that night, I was completely truthful. I just omitted a few details."

 

 

 

Technically he didn't lie. That didn't make it any better really, she thought as she sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly ahead. On the other hand, him knowing the captain personally meant that she was one step closer to reaching her goal, in an unexpected way, she supposed. "Jane, I'm truly sorry. I didn't mean for you to find out like this. I should have told you sooner." His arms wrapped around her and she let him, the warmth of his body was exactly what she needed at that given moment. To feel safe, protected. "I cannot believe it", she whispered. "I cannot"

 

 

 

"What could I have done differently? Walk into this room and present myself" Hello, my name is Alexandre Dufresne, and I am a pirate ". That wouldn't have helped my cause at all." he continued explaining.

 

 

 

"Your cause? What exactly were you hoping to achieve?" she asked, turning slightly to face him. "Jane, my dear, I think I've made that pretty darn clear"

 

 

 

Lifting the shift with both of her hands, she straddled him, pressing her chest against his. "Mr Dufresne, maybe you would have been successful much sooner had I known you were such a dangerous man". The thought of danger was much less scary, when she put it in the light of finding her father. It was almost enticing. "Had I known you were a pirate, maybe I wouldn't have made you wait until the morning before inviting you into my bed."

 

 

 

"Is that so? Didn't know that you have a proclivity for pirates. Hope you don't want me to start wearing earrings now, or a beard" he sounded terribly serious. "I don't think a beard would suit you, but I'll consider the earrings." she laughed, as she lightly pushed him backwards. A distraction was exactly what she needed, to take her mind off of all the things that could go wrong and the things she'd done to get there. She instead decided to focus her attention on the man laying under her, looking up at her, trying his harder to focus his hazy gaze on her. His hands, too soft for a proper pirate, were now firmly planted on her thighs, rubbing circles into her skin, slowly, almost lazy. He was wonderfully pressed up against her heat, just a thin layer of fabric separating them. He wasn't exactly what one would call rough, but he did have the strength to quickly grab her and roll over, rendering him on top, and of course, with the upper hand. 

 

 

 

While his hands started roaming up and down her body, she couldn't help thinking about how a few years ago she wouldn't be caught dead in such a compromising position. Her train of thought broke when he grabbed her nightgown and pulled it over her head, leaving her completely bare. Trailing a hand, from her neck, to her collarbone, all the way down to her breast, and then her navel, and finally, the wet heat between her legs, he asked "Why would such a beautiful woman as yourself so easily allow a man like me, not particularly strong, nor rich, nor handsome, into her bed?". His hand toyed with her clit slowly, distracting her from giving an answer straight away. Letting out a soft moan, she finally replied" It's the glasses. I really like men with glasses ". 

 

 

 

He laughed for a second, and then reached over and grabbed his glasses from the nightstand."Better?" he asked, his fingers moving just a tad faster. She was already quivering under his touch, but she could tell his intentions weren't to satisfy her right away. "Yes, much better". She thought it was funny, how small two of her fingers felt so much smaller to his, and how when he'll leave once again, pleasuring herself would be a much harder task. Reaching for his trouser ties was futile, her hands here already shaking too hard. He batted her hands away. "Oh no, ma cherie, not until I've made up for earlier today. You've pleasured me already, let me return the favour." 

 

 

 

Falling back down onto her pillow, she gave up on trying to fight back and let the sensation slowly wash over her. He lowered himself, and gave her pussy a tentative lick, testing her reactions. And then another, and another, feeling her muscles tensing and relaxing under his fingertips. It didn't take much to rile her up. A suck here, a lick there, two fingers working away at the bundle of nerves deep inside her, and she wouldn't be able to stay still. Her fingers gripped his hair tightly, almost too tight. "Oh, Alexandre, you're not going to stop until I'm finished, are you?" she tried to say, but she basically breathed it out. He didn't answer, instead he quickened his pace, adding yet another finger to the aquation, making her squeal and almost clamp her legs around his head. If he hadn't had his hand firmly placed on her right thigh, she would have suffocated him. "Alexandre, this is too much! Oh lord, what are you doing to me? Jesus Christ!". Lifting his head for a moment he asked "Do you want me to stop?" before getting right back to it. "Oh lord, no! Don't you dare stop?" 

 

 

 

The climax hit her like a freigh train. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her ears started ringing. Although her moans and pleas had filled the room, they quickly subsided when she became too lightheaded, and collapsed back into the mattress. She layed there motionless for a moment, too stunned to do anything but breathe heavily. Her legs were shamelessly apart, too tired to lift them together. Terribly proud of himself, he smiled at her, and then helped her back into her nightgown. 

 

 

 

He pulled the covers on top of them, and without another word, kissed the top of her head and went right back to sleep. She didn't dream for the rest of the night. 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Carrying the pile of skirts and shirts, she maneuvered skillfully through the crowd. She couldn't see straight ahead, instead, she had to look around the stack and hope not to collide with anybody.

I bet one could navigate Nassau with their eyes closed, just listening to the sounds of the street. The women talking, the merchants, the way the stomped their feet, or the way their many belts and chains clinked and clanked. On top of that, add the sounds of the children, laughing and chasing each other through the crowd, and the occasional singing of tropical birds, or the sound the hooves of the passing horses made when they hit the ground.

When she finally made it to the tavern, she was already terribly hot and sweaty, having walked under that goddamned sun. She hated it with all her heart, having given her terrible burns the first few weeks she lived here. She remembered the first night clearly, having spent it pacing around her room, the burns hurting too much whenever she tried to lay down. She even resorted to covering her burns with yoghurt at some point, and she couldn't help feeling disgusted at the thought of it. She had gotten a bit tan in the meantime, but it was nothing to brag about, not compared to the golden glow some people on this island seemed to radiate.

Going up the stairs proved to be the more difficult task, but she somehow managed, not without tripping over her own feet a few times. She could hear the voices from inside the office, so she decided to wait until someone came out, rather than knock. She supposed it was important business since the doors were closed and she didn't want to intrude, everybody knew it was a terrible idea to anger Miss Guthrie. She looked like a child who got kicked out of the classroom for being too naughty, and now waited to be reprimanded.

When the men finally left the office, she didn't even see them, from behind the pile of clothes. She was somethat glad to be hidden. She felt like a child hiding behind a curtain, convinced she was invisible, even though her feet were visible from behind the fabric. Mr. Scott opened the door and led her inside. He quickly grabbed the articles of clothing from her arms, and neatly set them on the couch. The mistress was looking out the window and seemed terribly worried, her beautiful face contorted into a hard to read expression.

"Miss Jane, thank you for your services." he offered one of this bright smiles and bowed slightly. The mistress seemed to snap out of it and jumped slightly on the spot. "Yes! Miss Jane, thank you so much, I didn't expect them to be done so fast" she reached for her purse and took out a rather generous amount for the work she'd done, but she couldn't complain, now could she? She gratefully accepted the payment, bid the both of them goodbye, and then bolted out the door. "The pleasure is mine, Mistress Guthrie. If you need me again, just send for me."

  
She had big plans for today. She was determined to do some more "investigative work" as she liked to call it, and by that she meant going to the marketplace and eavesdrop, hoping to find out about the bearded man, hunting for maps. She had talked to Max that morning, before she went to sleep, and none of her customers mentioned that man, and she promised to ask the girls about him as well. If there was someone who knew the ins and outs of this island, it was Max, and her army of whores.

She made sure she looked like a local, so that she could blend in easily. Gone were the constricting dresses, buried at the bottom of her chest, and in were the flowy, colorful fabrics of the caribbean. She even wrapped a belt around her middle, something she wouldn't have done under any circumstance back in England. Hell, she even kept her rigid way of dressing for a long while after fleeing England. She walked purposefully, like nothing could get in her way, her head held up high. While she was carefully inspecting a map, from a rather shady looking character, and tried her hardest to waste some time, hoping he'd say something. He didn't. So she carefully set it down and walked to the next cluster of merchants, this time they were selling fabrics, so she could take her time looking. Waking from merchant to merchant, none of them talked about the mysterious man, which was strange, since he was such a hot topic last week. She knew better that to ask, asking usually generated even more questions and the last thing she wanted to do was raise suspicions.

She couldn't quite concentrate, and she knew exactly why. A pair of eyes, no, two pairs, followed her around, as she walked through crowds, as she looked at a variety of things, even when she sat down by the beach to rest a little and eat a mango. Two pairs of eyes followed her. She didn't want to give them the satisfaction of acknowledging them, so she avoided their gaze at all costs, until she couldn't do it anymore. An old man, no doubt an old seadog by the looks of him, dressed in the typical pirate attire, and also pretty rotund. She had the sensation she was looking at someone's grandfather dressed up in a pirate costume rather than a fearsome plundered. He was, no doubt, a skilled pirate, since he lived long enough for this hair to turn gray, a rare occurance in pirates. The younger man standing next to him was, by at least a head, much taller than the old seadog, so tall in fact that there was no way he could hide in a crowd. Possessing the most muscular arms Jane ever laid her eyes upon, he definitely looked like a pirate. His skin was tanned from all those hours working out in the sun, while his hair was cropped short, no doubt for efficiency rather than for style. They were definitely an interesting pair.

They knew she saw them, but they didn't seem bothered. Apparently their goal wasn't to be covert. She, on the other hand, tried her hardest to hide from them, and even when she went back home, she shut her curtains and buried her face in the pillow, trying to forget the encounter ever happened.

 

Earlier during the day, Gates and Billy stood by the market, watching the mysterious woman. Flint himself asked Gates to do it, but since the old rascal though he'd get bored, spending hours on end watching something not particularly exciting, he brough Billy with him. Flint didn't tell him why he was watching her, but he knew he must have a reason. You can only connect the dots looking back, he knew it will all come full circle, it always does. Gates spent enough time in Nassau to spot outsiders. Sure, she dressed like a local, tried her hardest to act like one, but he could tell she was new here, by the way she kept her back a bit too straight, or the way she walked, carefully putting one foot in front of the other in a straight line. It's the kind of things one cannot unlearn, at least not without serious effort.

"Billy, shut your mouth before a fly gets in" he hesitated for a moment, closed it, and then thought better of it "Our job is to watch the girl, you can't blame me!" he protested.

"Watch what the girl is doing, Billy, for crying out loud. Anyways, whatever you're thinking, get it out of your head, I think she's the one who's keeping out dear Mr Dufresne at night!" the old man informed him. Billy couldn't believe it." Jesus! You must be joking. Her? And Dufresne? "

"Billy, I ain't joking. Dufresne turns up at work late in the morning, unlike himself, with bruises under the collar. And then when the mistress mentioned her seamstress, he gripped the glass of him he was holding so damn tight, I thought it might explode. I'm telling you, it must be her. "

" What on earth..." Billy shook his head. He couldn't imagine how the universe put that woman and Dufresne together. By the looks of her, she must have been from the upper class, holding the basket gingerly, unlike the women who were used to carrying heavy weights, and despite her clothes, she held herself in a dignified manner. What was she doing in a place like this? Nassau would chew her up and spit her out.

 

Far from the market, in a tent, on the beach, sat Alexandre Dufresne, writing terribly fast, eager to get all of his work done, to slam the book shut and get on with his day. His plan was to get it all done and return in the arms of his Janie, with a bottle of wine, just to see how she behaved when she was drunk. He could bet it will be incredibly funny. His train of though was interrupted when the captain walked it, much earlier than he usually would.

He didn't have time to open his mouth to ask what was the purpose of his visit was, but thought better of it. He sat down, in the chair across from him, and intertwined his fingers. The green eyes captain seemed to be deep in thought. Dufresne knew he was extremely careful when choosing his words, never saying not more, nor less, than he intends.

He finally broke the silence. "I've been informed that you've become recently acquainted with a particular seamstress in Nassau."

"That is correct, captain" answered Dufresne, trying to be as neutral as possible. The subject surprised him but he wasn't going to let it show. He couldn't know what the captain intent was.

"May I ask what her name is?". The captain was excessively polite, he was walking on eggshells. It must have been important for him.

"Jane. She's only given me her first name so far"

"Did she tell you where she's from?" Flint pressed on.

"Yes, she mentioned she used to live in London"

Flint stood up abruptly and stepped towards the flap of the tent. "Thank you Mr. Dufresne, that would be all". Before he could step outside, Dufresne spoke up.

"She also mentioned seeing a man, whom she'd met previously in London, many years ago, a man whose description closely matches yours, even though she didn't mention your name specifically." Flint stopped dead in his tracks, and turned towards the accountant.

" I thought it would be relevant for you to know that, sir ". Flint thought about it for a second, and then bid the accountant goodbye and left. Dufresne quietly decided not to tell Jane about this encounter, not until he knew more about it, he didn't want to worry her needlessly. Instead, he grit his teeth and went back to writing, speeding through the calculations, struggling to keep everything accurate.

One step wrong with Captain Flint, and one could plunge to their death, and Dufresne certainly didn't intend to sleep at the bottom of the sea tonight. Page after page, the black ink kept flowing, despite his shaky hands, the writing lay nestly, in rows and columns. Ink stained his fingertips and he was positive he looked like a schoolboy, learning how to write, be hadn't dirtied his hands like this in years.

The captain decided not to return that afternoon, and Dufresne was more than glad, facing that man once a day was more than enough. Although his initial plan was to grab only one bottle of wine, taking into consideration the encounter, he got an extra one. He sure needed some alcohol in his system to fall asleep tonight. Little did he know what she was a similar situation, eager to drown her sorrows, and forget everything.

When he arrived at her doorstep, he stopped and listened for a moment. He thought he heard voices, and his blood froze in his veins. "Could there be another man?" Pushing the door open, slowly, quietly, instead of discovering a terrible affair, he saw Jane, laying on her stomach, a glass of rum in one hand, and the other keeping a small book open. She was singing a duet, and since she was all alone, she decided to deepen her voice so she could sing both parts. Her pale calves swayed back and forth on the rhythm of the music. She didn't seem to register his presence for a few seconds, singing loudly and only stopping to take another swig.

"Ahem". She immediately stopped singing, the now empty glass slipping from her hand, tumbling to the floor, but thankfully not breaking. He hand shot up and clutched her chest, as if her heart was going to jump out and escape it. "You scared the shit out of me!" she almost yelled.

"Did the party start without me?" he asked, motioning towards the rum bottle placed at the foot of the bed. "Well, I intended to wait for you, but I got a bit impatient. I had a rough day, I just wanted to, you know, relax a bit".

Should she tell him about the men following her? She decided to keep that to herself. Instead, she got up and threw her arms around him, almost knocking him backwards from the force of it. She grabbed him by the collar, and kissed him fiercely, pulling her body flush against his.

"Where are my manners? Let me pour you a glass". She took a step backwards, but he wouldn't let go of her yet. "You're not getting away so easily." he said, grabbing her by her waist, picking her up and putting her up against the wall in one swift motion. She gasped and then giggled, clearly enjoying his sudden surge of confidence. "I was planning on getting you drunk, but you seem to have made my job much easier"

"Oh, Mr. Dudresne, you wanted to get me drunk and then have your way with me? That's clearly pirate behavior. I don't know how I didn't notice earlier.". She wiggled in between the wall and his body, her legs wrapped around his waist, her core flush against his. She kissed him right under his jaw and then worked her way down his neck, eager to make him shiver under her touch. Right as her hand started working away at his buttons, Dufresne stopped her. Something was bothering him, she could tell by his tense muscles in his shoulders and his reluctance to touch her. "Jane, I want to ask you something"

She froze. What could he possibly want to know? She knew he would start asking questions at some point, but how far will those questions go? He set her down gently, and then walked over to the foot of the bed, to grab the bottle of rum and pour her some. She received the glass gladly, and took a gulp, for courage. "Why are you here, in Nassau?". She sat down on her bed and looked down at her feet. "I... I'm going to be here temporarily, I'm on my way to America.". She had a feeling he wasn't going to take this answer at face value. "Alright, but why did you leave England? Why would you leave the country. I'm pretty sure they're in need of seamstresses in London just as much as they are in America."

"I hoped that once I set foot on American soil, I could assume a new identity". It would be easier to pry the words out of her mouth. "Please, don't ask me something I cannot tell you, please don't ask that of me. I don't want to lie to you" she whispered, almost like a prayer. "All that I can tell you is that my goal is to reach the Americas, and that I need to find my father. Is that enough?"

He seemed to ponder it a little. "It saddens me, that you cannot find it in your heart to trust me, but it's a sound decision. You shouldn't trust anyone in Nassau".

"What's the point of knowing who I was, or what I did? All that you need to know is that I'm here, now, with you, and that there's no place else I'd rather be."

"Is that so? You'd rather be here than on American soil, far away from your problems?" he didn't seem to believe her words.

"Well, I suppose the ideal scenario would include both you and the American coast".

"I don't think I've quite understood what you mean. You'd want me to come with you?"

"Would that seem so outlandish?"

"No! Not at all!" he said quickly "I just can't believe what I'm hearing."

"I'll tell you everything you need to know, in time, you must believe me!"

"How could I believe you? You could be telling me anything. You could be anyone. "

"Oh, if I were to lie, I'd make up a pretty little story, I'd lie without blinking, but I chose to tell you the truth, and I ask you to wait"

"I'll wait, if that's all you ask, I'll wait." he concluded, and poured himself some rum. He knocked it back quickly. Repeated the process one more time and then turned to her. "I must resume my plan. I was going to get to terribly drunk tonight."

"I'm staring to think you want to get me drunk so that, in my drunken stupor, I might run my mouth".

"No, Jane, I wasn't planning on interrogating you. I was merely trying to get you naked, without any inhibitions, just to see what you're capable of. I was trying to determine what kind of drunk you are. If you're the kind who sings and dances, or the one who gets terribly depressed. Or maybe you're the type of drunk who gets into fist fights. ".

" I must disappoint you, Alexandre, I'm the kind of drunk who sleeps like a log! I bet you're the kind of drunk who can't shut up"

 

 

 

Before they knew it, one of the bottles was gone, and abandoned somewhere on the desk, while the other one was only halfway drank. They sat on the bed, cross-legged, each holding a glass, grinning madly at each other. The alcohol had gone straight to their heads, and now they both sported terribly red faces and stupid wide smiles. Dufresne's face was almost as red as his hair.

"How old were you?" she giggled

"I was...twenty" he said quietly.

"Twenty! I cannot believe it! Most men usually, you know, do it earlier. Pirates even more so, I imagine" she laughed

"Well, she was terribly nice to me. I told her I'd never done it before, and I asked her to show me how to do it. It was an embarrassing affair really." he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, I was sixteen. I had gotten it in my head that if I get rid of my maidenhead myself, no man can willingly steal it from me. A friend, who was a couple of years older, and had her marriage arranged, confided in me of her terrible wedding night. She told me that it hurt, and that it was uncomfortable, that they kept their nightclothes on, and that he didn't do as much as kiss her. Which is far from the stories my brother told, they were much more colorful, believe me"

Dufresne raised a hand to his mouth and said "Did you fuck a stable boy?" and let out a loud laugh.

"I did not!" she slapped his shoulder. "Well, he didn't work it the stables! He worked in the kitchens, he was the one who had to carry all the heavy things around. I arranged one night for him come to my room at night."

"You ripped his collar too?" he said, leaning closer.

"No, you're the only one whose clothes I rip"

"What about your corset? Did you get it off any faster?"

"Alexandre, I believe you might be a teeny tiny bit jealous! Did any of the women you slept with treat you like I do? Hmm?". She set her wine glass down.

"The thought of someone else, sneaking into your room at night, ripping of off you what must have been a really fancy dress, and fucking you like a scullery maid, is driving me mad!"

"Oh, Alexandre! You're making it seem like a truly perverted affair! It wasn't really. At least I wasn't doing it in a brothel!"

"I was a shy teenager, cut me some slack! It wasn't all brothels since that one."

"The charming Alexandre Dufresne, breaking hearts left and right!" she laughed once again. Her laughter abruptly stopped when she suddenly found herself pushed on her back, her legs flying up in the air.

"The charming Alexandre Dufresne, right here between your legs!". He leant and kissed her fiercely, clearly driven by both the wine and their previous conversation. She wasn't at all surprised. "Did your dear kitchen boy kiss you like this?" he whispered, peppering her neck and her collarbone with kisses.

"If I told you he kissed me better, would it spur you on?"

"Not particularly, really" he stopped for a moment.

"He was a terrible kissed, but I didn't know any better back then"

 

  
His soft hands pulled the strings carefully. Were he a woman, he would have yanked them roughly, but he wasn't, so tightening the corset wasn't such a violent affair. "Did she teach you?" she asked.

"Who are you referring to, dear?"

"That first woman, did she teach you how to do this?"

"No, it was another one".

The window was open, and the breeze moved the curtains slowly back and forth. She dreaded morning. They would mostly spend their nights together, and the rare occasions when they met during daytime, they never went together in public. They never talked about it, it was more of an unspoken agreement, that they could completely let down their guard only between where four walls. Her body was slightly sore, no doubt from the intense physical activity, and she wished she could turn around and push him back onto the bed, but she was well aware that he couldn't afford being so late so often.

"I'll have to leave Nassau soon." he whispered. Now that she knew his occupation, she was much more fearful. "Do you know whether or not you'll be gone for long?"

"Not yet, I'll tell you when I find out"

"I'll be waiting for you, you know that already. When you left the last time, I spent an absurd amount of time looking out the window, or amongst the people at the tavern, or at the market"

He placed a kiss on her neck. "Did you now? I'm surprised" he laughed softly. "I must go now, the captain must want to talk about the reserves.". He never talks about his work, but this time, in the comfort of a warm bed and the arms of a lovely woman, the words seemed to slip out uncontrollably.

 

  
"Yes, I saw him walking into her house last night, holding two bottles of wine.". Gates stopped for a moment, while the captain turned towards him, and raised his eyebrow curiously. "No, I did not spend much time afterwards. Didn't want to intrude, you know"

> "What could she possibly be doing here?" Flint paced around the tent. "She has no reason to be here, in Nassau.


End file.
